


Unclaimed Fidelity

by Evenseven



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom!Aragorn, Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, M/M, No Beta, Porn with Feelings, Sort Of, and a lot of fluff?, movie-verse, top!Boromir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenseven/pseuds/Evenseven
Summary: “Solace, my lord,” Aragorn lowered his eyes as a gesture of humility, “that and my loyalty are what I am offering to you, Boromir the Steward son.”
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Boromir (Son of Denethor II)
Kudos: 35





	Unclaimed Fidelity

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored. I wrote some porn. That's about it.

“What is this?” Boromir’s proud sword-wielding hands were not so steady any more, for the sight presented before him was so out of orientation in his mind, something far beyond the realm of his dream could provide. Yet instead of welcoming the amazement of opportunity unfolded, he ground his teeth to push the shame and anger that simmered up to his cheekbones back down, knowing he would not able to hold his dignity if things went sideway. “I take no pity of yours, Ranger. Leave me and we shall forget this evening.”

It had taken him by surprise that the _Lost King of Gondor_ found him in the bath chamber of Rivendell, interrupting his silent contemplation after a long day of Elrond’s meeting. It wasn’t really a dispute they had during the meeting, but they had not the chance to speak after the incident. Boromir was not intended to disrespect his liege, but the sudden revelation from an elf left him feeling more betrayed than ever.

The rugged ranger who had shared his bed previous night was in fact…

Aragorn did not utter a word about his origin, not had he complained when Boromir pressed himself against the warm body, war-scarred and weather-beaten yet utterly beautiful to his eyes. The golden warrior had advanced without hesitation, pinning him face down and pushing those lean legs apart in a rather brutal manner. It wasn’t that Boromir had no virtue of a gentleman at all, simply that he could not resist the temptation of such an exquisite man.

Yes, Aragorn was more exquisite than anyone he had known, though written by marks of old wounds, his body proudly displayed the courage and experience which he admired upmost. He didn’t hesitate when he ground his hot arousal against the pale thighs, didn’t feel shy when he licked the ranger’s heated earlobe, didn’t back away when he closed his callused hand on the other man’s equally hard shaft, offering comfort and passion of his own. 

But that was different. That was a rugged ranger from the North, and this…This was _Isildur’s heir_ , this was the future King of Gondor.

And the King of Gondor was now equally naked and splendid appealing as he cornering him in the bathing pool, his raven hair bleached to a chestnut brown under the bright leaking moonlight, blue-grey eyes flickered silver sparkles even behind the water steam. There was always a grim struggle in between Aragorn’s brows, some times more evident than others, but now his expression was much calmer, making the ranger seemed somehow younger than the previous night. This time it was Aragorn who opened his welcoming arms, trying to enclose them to Gondorion’s shoulders before Boromir deflected them away.

A hint of confusion emerged from the ranger’s face, only stirred up Boromir’s anger—He was so sick of this amiable facade of this mysterious man, this game of manipulation that had him played like a fool.

What he offered him then, he was offering right now, yet Boromir could no longer accept without questioning—he could no longer even bare the ravishing sight.

“I do not offer you pity.” Hearing his irritated remarks, Aragorn replied quietly, “I did not offer you that last night, as I am offer you no pity now—and I would never do so.” There was an unnamed grief flashed in his stormy eyes, he looked saddened by Boromir’s rejection, yet he did not retreat. Standing firmly in the middle of a bathing pool with water beans dripping down his muscled shoulders and stubbled chest, this man held himself truly elegant in a kingly manner, which Boromir found annoyingly attractive.

“Then what is this you are offering, Aragorn?” Boromir tried not to show the tremors climbing up his spine.

“Solace, my lord,” Aragorn lowered his eyes as a gesture of humility, “that and my loyalty are what I am offering to you, Boromir the Steward son.”

“Loyalty?” The answer took Boromir by surprise, “What loyalty do you hold for me, apart from the allegiance you own to your kind?”

Aragorn held a strangely serene tone in responding his provoked remarks.“I know what you think of me,” the pause in between his words was almost too long to endure, Aragorn seemed to be lost in this own thought for a moment before he continued, “a shadow hiding in the alien land, a weary solider forsook his realm, a man unworthy of his name.”

All of these was true, Boromir wanted to roar, but also none of these was true. 

Boromir had heard from Lord Elrond that it was Aragorn who escorted the halflings and the Ring all the way from Bree to Rivendell, and it made quite an impression on him about the ranger’s skills in the wild. He had seen how regal Aragorn could present himself, even with no crown or robe, or anything to wear. There was something else, something more he had not yet been informed about this man, but the marvel surrounding Aragorn seemed endless and ever astonishing. He meant not to despise this man. Boromir held every respect for the ranger’s beauty and competence, yet he could not trust him entirely to be the legendary King that would bring back glory of old to the White City.

“But hear me this, _my lord._ ” Aragorn held a breath, lifting his silver eyes to meet Boromir’s turquoise ones, “Once I made a vow of fidelity to the proud line of Steward of Gondor, and to that oath I hold today still.”

The last word melted on Boromir’s lips, the sureness in his response left the sweet of compassion and bitterness of longing tangled in his mouth. His reasons screamed in his head to halt the intimate encounter, but he had no heart to push Aragorn and all his tenderness away.

Boromir responded with passionate kisses, he pushed his tongue inside the barrier of Aragorn’s thin lips, feeling the pricking stubbles on the other man’s chin and knowing he would feel the same. Boromir was not used to this kind of intimacy between men, for soldiers rarely had the time and will to institute anything other than immediate comfort of a night, and Aragorn was certainly unlike any lady he had laid with. But the impulse to hold this man was strong enough for him to ignore the slight awkwardness in their motions.

“Let me show you,” Aragorn only break the kiss to breathe a few promising words, “I am but a servant to you, and always will be, even if I am crowned.”

A King who only serves his people, Boromir thought desperately as his fingers gripped into the slender waist under the water surface, hot and soft like no other, and he could no longer resist the urge.

“If you don’t stop this at once,” his voices quivered, “I would spare no mercy.”

I ask not for your mercy, the stormy eyes darkened as Aragorn whispered a silent return, show me how much you desire me.

He craved for this man more than any utterance could carry, so he wasted no time before seizing his fingers on the taut skin. Another fervent kiss, their hips crashed together, and Boromir realized how hard they both were only now. No layer of clothes was laid in between, and their cocks ground onto each other eagerly.

Aragorn had given enough permission for him to precede, Boromir’s hands slid down to grab the muscled globes of the ranger’s ass, ravishing its fullness before his fingers teasing the secret opening inside the cleft. The other man parted his legs willingly, indulging the rush in Boromir’s movement. Hot water was an efficient medium to sooth the way, before long he was two fingers inside the heated tunnel and cock weeping with need.

“In me,” his King demanded firmly, “ _please_.”

Boromir mumbled a low groan, spinning them around, pinning Aragorn’s back to the side of bathing pools and lifting him up with legs wrapped around his waist. He drove inside Aragorn with one long and solid push, worrying over the resistance of the ranger’s body and how much it would hurt, but Aragorn merely moaned against his neck and closed his teeth to a bite. The sting barely registered in Boromir’s mind, very much unlike the recognition of Aragorn’s cock poking his stomach. He brought the other man’s hand down to his own shaft, then returned to clutched onto the taut skin of his thighs, giving himself more leverage to control the motion.

Aragorn held his breathe a moment longer like he was willing himself open, then his tongue slid to lick Boromir’s earlobe as a wordless encouragement. Boromir could not restrain himself anymore—ranger or the King, he longed for this man no less. Slow grinding became hasty thrust, Boromir pulled nearly all the way out before shoved back in rather brutally. His head burned with yearning while his body held an uncontrollable fast rhythm, feeling the tightness squeezing his cock.

The ranger pumped himself with an intermittent and mindless rhythm, shaky moans and gasps escaped his lips, eyes unfocused like he was unable to keep up with the golden warrior’s pace. When Boromir hit a spot inside him, the low moan became almost a scream. The Gondorion almost screamed in sync, sensing the tight tunnel clutched and un-clutched him reflexively. The ecstasy he once known reemerged from the tangling of their limps and lips. Water or sweat drizzled down Aragorn’s forehead and cheeks, making him looked like he was freshly crying. A wave of possessiveness took over Boromir as he thrusted deeper into the other man, finding Aragorn’s mouth and greedily swallowing every whimper and pant.

The man who would be commanding his land and army was now voluntarily presenting himself to him, _seducing_ him, permitting his nails to dig deeper into the skin, his lips to kiss rougher, his cock to invade more savagely inside him.

His King, naked and vulnerable, trembling with desire under him.

And when the quest was done, when they returned to the White City, he would press Aragorn to the stone wall of the King’s hall, push his shoulders down on the soft mattress of his very own bed, or fuck him senselessly inside of the chamber that no one possessed in three thousand years. He would be the loyal company and Steward of his King, and none other would take his place of the right-side seat in the King’s hall, or the spot beside him in the large bed of the King.

And maybe, he would take a spot in the King’s heart, too.

He only lasted a few more violent thrusts before spilling himself deep inside Aragorn. His fingers gripped righter into the ranger’s thighs, which would surely leave some nasty bruises. The intimacy was much more impatient and rougher than what they had last night, yet it was somehow more satisfying than anything Boromir had experienced. He was never a man of fancy dictions, but he murmured a few words of affection to Aragorn’s ears, holding him steadily as the other man whimpered a high cry and spilled in his closed fist.

The bubbling of the hot water never died out, Boromir had half a mind to realize someone could have walked into them at any time. He glanced down nervously on the face buried in his neck, only to find his King with a surprisingly relaxed expression he had never seen, like the heavy burden that impeded his restful dream had finally been lifted. No statement was spoken, and no reassurance was needed at this private night. Boromir had not the heart to disturb the split moment of consolation, so he held his taciturnity as he listened to the even breath and hugged him even tighter, reluctant to let go of this peacefulness.

Yes, Boromir had decided, he would gladly invade the heart of his King, and proudly seize a territory that solely belonged to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Boromir: Wait, does it mean that you'd devote yourself like this to Faramir...and _my father_ too?
> 
> Aragorn: ...Shut up.


End file.
